


Everything In Between

by infinitelyinfinite3



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Death, Gen, Life - Freeform, and everything in between
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28039500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitelyinfinite3/pseuds/infinitelyinfinite3
Summary: Hermione has always understood. Sometimes, it takes a while, but in the end, she does.Set in what could be 8th year, after the battle.
Relationships: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Everything In Between

**Author's Note:**

> I realize how not great this is. Sorry. It's my first attempt. I have tried valiantly, and I hope that it does me some sort of good, whether it be that my writing improves, or that my confidence does. 
> 
> Ciao.

Daylight never stays too long when you can't sleep. Especially when everything (the people you’ve lost, the nightmares you’ve gained, for example) keeps coming through, flashing around in your mind like a faulty lightbulb. 

Harry knows this. It's sucked up by the sky, dark and unrelenting, a towering mass of black, covering buildings and towns in a thick cocoon. Stars are like prickles of torchlight: burning and spinning, their sharp edges glinting, blanketing and sharpening to a tapered tip at the topmost point of the atmosphere. Hogwarts seems to touch the bottom layer, just scraping at the bit of overlap where space touches Earth. 

He's lying awake in his four poster, fingers in his left hand curled towards his palm, the other behind his head, tangled in his dark hair. The windowpanes are covered in fog, but Harry manages to see the blankness through them; the stars twinkling, a stark contrast to the almost blinding blackness. 

Beside him, blankets rustle, and then, Hermione sighs, her breath tickling the back of Harry's neck. "Harry. It's one in the morning. Go to sleep." 

Harry rolls over onto his side and smiles up at her. Her body is propped on her elbows, and she's silent, still, watching him. The edge of her t-shirt rides up on her stomach, exposing her tan skin. Her hair is tumbling across her cheekbones, covering one eye with a dark tangle. "I'm okay." His voice is so quiet, it's barely a whisper. A wisp of breath along his best friend's cheek. He's not giving her the answer she's looking for, not, “I’m hurting, please help me,” but it's the only one he WILL give. 

She tries, anyway.

"Harry—" 

"I'm okay, 'Mione," says Harry quietly, reaching out to ruffle a finger through her thick curls. "I promise." 

Hermione glares as best she can while looking wrecked from sleep. Harry gives her a tired smile, pulling his finger out and laying it back against his hip. He can admit he's exhausted, yeah, but that doesn't mean he'll do anything about it.

"At least do something, Harry. I can't let you sit and do nothing. It grates on my conscience." She flops lightly down on the bed beside him, checking over her shoulder at the other person currently occupying it, rolling her eyes fondly when their resident boulder lets out a resolute snore. 

Harry huffs out a soft laugh. "Sorry." He's not, not really. It's his business if he wants to stay up and suffer. He's done it before. He can do it again. It doesn't matter that even Pansy bleeding Parkinson has started to notice. But, the bags under his eyes are a great excuse to get out of Potions. So. There's that. 

"What do you want?" he asks, gently prodding the slide of Hermione's skin under her shirt. "For me to do," he clarifies, when she blinks in bemusement. 

"You could—talk to me? About anything?" Hermione reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. "I'm serious, Harry. If you won't get up and do anything to pass the time, and the alternative could be even more unhappiness swirling in that morbid mind of yours, I'll stay up all night." 

Harry looks at her for a moment. In a flash, she's 'Hermione', the girl Ron heckled in Transfiguration, the tiny little squirt who got trapped in the bathroom, who he and Ron had to save from that bloody troll. She looks so very young in that moment, hair caught in her eyelashes, his breath comes slightly short, triggering his brain into remembering life before scars and screams, before Horcruxes and Mudbloods. Before Malfoy and Potter, and wands and blood drawn. 

"You don't have to." 

"But I WILL, Harry, and that's the point." 

"I'm the one setting this on myself, here, not you. I'M the bloody martyr. You don't have to be." Harry's throat seizes around those last words, and he gives his best friend a look of plea, remembering too late: 'nothing good comes of rushed confessions.'

"Haz—" 

"It's fine." 

Hermione sighs. "For the love of fuck, Potter." 

Harry snorts. "Potter," he says, very quietly. "Never heard that one before." At Hermione's smirk, he kicks her lightly in the ankle. "From you." He flicks her in the wrist. 

"It's gone through my mind a couple of times," Hermione mutters. "Particularly when I want to STRANGLE you, as I do now." She scowls at him, dark eyes disapproving.  
Harry sticks out his tongue out at her and laughs, keeping his voice a whisper. Hermione's gaze goes soft and fond, slipping out of disapproving, and Harry knows how hard it is for her, in this moment, to stay that. "You are absolutely terrible, you know. Loving someone like you is difficult, damn it." 

Harry grins, white teeth shining in the moonlight streaming through the windows. 

"Come here, you miserable lump," Hermione says, holding her arms open. "If you're going to be difficult, I'll meet you there." 

"Did anyone ever tell you you were bossy? As hell?" Harry grumbles, succumbing to her summons anyway, his head coming up to rest on her chest. "Because it's true, you know." 

Hermione laughs, just as quietly. They both know Ron won't wake up, but they aren't about to break the peace with any sort of noise. "Trust me, being bossy has its merits." She threads his fingers through Harry's hair, resting her chin on the top of his head. "Now, try to sleep. We can talk about this in the morning." 

Harry sighs. "Alright." And closes his eyes. 

Surprisingly, (but not really, is it? It's Hermione, after all) he does sleep, falling into a deep slumber that lasts hours, his cheek pressed against Hermione's collarbone. 

\-----------------

When Ron finds them in the morning, they're wrapped up in eachother: his girlfriend: his love, and his best mate: his brother. And Harry's finally asleep. Thank God for small mercies. 

Thank God for Hermione.

**Author's Note:**

> Update 12/18/2020: I edited it a little. ‘Didn’t like how it turned out and worked to make it easier to understand after I looked at some feedback. 
> 
> Ciao.


End file.
